


You... what?

by Lovefushsia



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternative HLV, Alternative take on parts of TAB, I just wondered if Sherlock meant to say something different, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, John is a bit cross, Just the bit on the tarmac, Kissing, Light Angst, Love Confessions, M/M, Rutting, So kind of TAB spoilers I suppose, The Tarmac Scene (Sherlock)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-27
Updated: 2017-02-20
Packaged: 2018-07-27 04:20:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7603159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lovefushsia/pseuds/Lovefushsia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John and Sherlock have their moment on the tarmac and Sherlock has something to say. It's not about his name.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“John, there’s something... I should say - I’ve meant to say always and never have, and I should have said it sooner, much sooner. Probably should have picked a better time than this...” His words trailed off as he looked around them to the plane on the tarmac, to his brother and Mary nearby.

“Go on,” John said, not sure what he was expecting but needing to hear anything at this point, to get some closure before his friend disappeared to God knew where. His heart was heavy and he already wanted to cry. If Sherlock made some kind of joke John thought he might punch him.

Sherlock took one more look to their companions before fixing John with a serious look and in almost a whisper he said, “I love you.”

John blinked. “Sorry, you... what?”

Sherlock didn’t move. “I love you, John. I know that I do because I’ve never been this distracted before. And I have not laughed before in my life the way I have with you. You... warm me John, mind and body. I wanted you to know.”

John couldn’t believe his ears, couldn’t believe the look in his friend’s eyes. He half expected Sherlock to burst into laughter. When that didn’t happen John blinked again, frowning now, and all he could think was what the hell they were doing having this conversation when Sherlock was leaving him. Again. “What?” he said again.

“John, I’m serious. I needed to tell you. I have tried before but... well, here we are. I couldn’t get on the plane without saying this.”

In his head John punched him in the nose. In reality, he just stood there.

“Ok, great. Well, thanks for that, Sherlock, perfect timing as per usual. Why don’t you go off to the back of bloody beyond and give me a call when you get there so I can _yell at you_ some more?”

“Will you think about it, John, please?” Sherlock was remaining remarkably calm as John’s anger rose.

“How the hell will I think of anything else?”

“I am sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, but between you not killing me for not being dead, courting yet another girlfriend, and the last few cases, I couldn’t seem to find the right moment.”

“Oh, so this is my fault? Again? Sherlock, what is this? Another delve into your mind palace and you’ve come out with this?”

“No, this is real, John, I’m perfectly clear on that.”

“Sherlock?” Mycroft’s voice came over to them. “Time to go. I do hope you’ve made your final farewells this time.”

Sherlock stared at John, ignoring his brother. “Go on, go,” John told him with a nod of his head towards the plane.

“I will call, John.”

“You do that.” The hurt in his friend’s eyes was not going to make John admit anything. Nothing. Finally, Sherlock turned away and allowed Mycroft to lead him to the plane. To take him away.

John felt numb as he watched his friend take the steps. He shivered when Mary’s hand slipped into his, and the rage was only compounded when he saw Sherlock’s face at the window as the aircraft began to taxi. What had he done?


	2. Chapter 2

Minutes later as John and Mary climbed back out of the taxi and John tried to calm his frantic heart, he all but ran over to the landing strip. He didn’t know what the hell was going on, only that as soon as Mycroft had told the car to stop and made the call to land Sherlock’s plane, John had nearly cried out loud with the relief.

All he had thought of was the words he had said to Sherlock and the terrible regret that he had been so unwilling to discuss it. He knew Mary had been talking to him, trying to draw him out, assuming he was just sad about his friend leaving, knowing nothing of the turmoil that he was going through. But John hadn’t been listening.

He was still angry, really bloody angry with his friend that he had kept it until their last moment together before telling John such a ridiculously important thing. And the words that John should have said were on a loop in his head and they were getting louder and more insistent the longer he had to wait for the damn plane to land.

He raced up the steps behind Mycroft and met Sherlock’s eyes as soon as he entered the cabin. Mycroft was lecturing him already, but Sherlock didn’t seem at all interested. Finally, Mycroft moved on to the reason for having Sherlock’s plane turn back, and then with a frustrated wave of his hand he asked if John could get through to him and he eased passed John and made his way to the exit.

 John looked behind him and asked if Mary could give them a moment. He could barely form coherent thoughts let alone words, but Mary touched his arm in understanding and followed Mycroft back down to the tarmac.

John looked around. Sherlock was still staring at him. “You idiot,” he said but he found that he couldn’t put any real feeling into it, his friend’s soft face made him crumble. He knelt beside Sherlock’s seat and took his hand, feeling quickly for his pulse. “What if you hadn’t turned back? What the hell were you thinking?” John muttered as he opened the medical box that someone had placed beside him in the aisle.

“I’m sorry,” Sherlock said as John worked. He couldn’t quite believe the kit had supplies that he needed to combat some of the effects of the drugs. He was instantly angered that Mycroft had clearly expected something like this and had left Sherlock to go it alone despite that.

“We need to get you to a hospital, I can’t do much here.”

“I don’t need it, John,” Sherlock said, his hand slipping calmly over John’s while he monitored his heart rate.

“Yes, you bloody well do,” John told him. “Drink this,” he added, thrusting a vial of activated charcoal solution towards him. But when he met his friend’s eyes he calmed a little. Sherlock’s expression was so warm and innocent and John just wanted to hold him. “Why? Why do this? You could have died,” he choked out, not even trying to control his voice.

Sherlock put a hand to his cheek and John closed his eyes, breathing deeply. “I thought it wouldn’t matter. I’m sorry.”

John looked back into those sad eyes and swallowed thickly. “You took me by surprise, but I shouldn’t have been such a prick about it,” he managed.

“It was cowardly of me John, I shouldn’t have waited until we had no chance of resolving it.”

John had to look away and he took another breath, easing back and away from Sherlock’s hand. He tidied away the medical supplies and finally sat down in the aisle and stared at his feet for a moment.

“Well, I’m back now. Let’s forget about it,” Sherlock said, clearly attempting to give John an out even in this state.

“What? No, no we will not forget about it,” John said. “You can’t seriously think I’d be able to do that?”

Sherlock peered behind John and shushed him ever so quietly. Mycroft’s voice sounded a moment later. “Ready when you are, Doctor Watson.”

John screwed his eyes closed, rubbed a hand over his hair and then got to his feet. He offered his hand to help Sherlock up and was quite surprised when his friend actually took it. He looked down and into John’s eyes and John cleared his throat and let his hand fall to his side. He turned without another word and moved down the aisle to follow Mycroft back to the car.


	3. Chapter 3

John insisted on accompanying Sherlock back to Baker Street, there was no question of it. They climbed the stairs in silence and finally John had Sherlock sitting on the sofa with a cup of tea in his hand.

John sat down heavily in his chair and his gaze shifted between Sherlock and the window. After a few minutes of further silence he just couldn’t bear it. 

“So, what happens now?” he asked quietly. “Do we just sit here and wait for the next piece of the puzzle to come to us?”

Sherlock looked so tired John wasn’t sure he could answer. But eventually he murmured something and John had to lean closer to hear him.

“You don’t have to stay here,” Sherlock said again.

John pointed a finger at him. “No. You don’t get to reveal your deepest feelings and then brush it aside as if it didn’t happen. That’s my job. And I’m not doing it. We’re...,” he gave a long sigh. “We’re talking about this.”

Sherlock finished his tea and set it down on the floor by his feet, resting his elbows on his knees as he hunched forward. “I didn’t know how you would react if I told you.”

“So you decided to tell me and then run?”

“It wasn’t my best idea, I realise that now.”

“And even worse than that you took a cocktail of drugs without any hope of my being there to help if...” He looked across and knew he wasn’t handling this the right way at all. Sherlock wasn’t himself, he wasn’t at his best and John was pushing him too far. “Well, thank God you came back. Let’s see how you feel in the morning,” he finished lamely.

“John, I’m ok. If you want to talk about it... It was a stupid thing to do. I’m terrible at this. I didn’t understand what I was feeling for so long that when it came to telling you I just didn’t know how.”

John thought about what he wanted to say before something incoherent spilled out. “I didn’t know how to tell you either,” he admitted quietly.

Sherlock frowned. “Tell me what?” he asked.

John took another deep breath. “That I was finding it difficult to be around you... without feeling... um... certain things.” He ended up holding his face in both hands and when he peaked through his fingers it was to see Sherlock staring at him with the same look John feared he would have.

“You? You were feeling... certain things?” Sherlock asked. “What things, John?” He stood up and moved closer and John wanted to feel his hands again, as he had on the plane, he really wanted to feel him.

“Mmm...?” John said tilting his head a little. He couldn’t form words suddenly, he wanted to talk this out he really did, but right now, he wanted to kiss his friend more than anything. He stood up and tried to walk across to the window but Sherlock stopped him, a hand on his arm.

“John, when I told you I love you, what went through your mind?”

“Anger, fear, wasted opportunities,” John murmured and he didn’t flinch when Sherlock moved his hand and cupped John’s cheek. “How much I love you too,” he whispered, closing his eyes.

“John, look at me,” Sherlock said gently, and it took some effort to raise his eyes and meet those of his best friend above him.

“Oh God, Sherlock, can we really do this?” he let out in a rush of whispered words.

Sherlock nodded. “Of course,” he answered, and his thumb was brushing circles against John’s cheek bone.

They moved simultaneously, lips meeting as John raised up onto his toes a little way. His arm went around Sherlock’s neck and he grabbed a handful of his shirt with his free hand.

Once the kiss started John lost all sense of reality, all he knew was the warm press of soft lips, Sherlock’s hands on him drawing him close. He didn’t need to know why this was happening, Sherlock was here, in his arms and everything else could wait.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally I'm feeling like I can post this. Written ages ago and finally finished.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't hate Mary at all and I feel bad for her in this story. But I've written this with the suggestion that the time before the Christmas reconciliation, where they had barely talked for months, would have been the end for them.

John pulled back and looked up at his friend, his arms slowly slipping back from around Sherlock's neck.

"This is our opportunity," Sherlock murmured. "I'm not going anywhere, not anymore. It's just you, and me. Once we've resolved a few things, of course."

John took a step backwards, scratching his forehead. "Ahh, yes that's great, Sherlock. You bring up my wife while we're doing this?"

"Well, one of us had to, don't you think?"

"We had this one moment," John sighed and turned away to pace across to the window. He turned back once he was a safe distance and tried to avoid reliving that kiss and wanting more, so much more. Sherlock hadn't moved and he was looking at John quizzically. "Sherlock, I know you've not been in a relationship before, well, I'm guessing that's the case, you've never said."

Sherlock shook his head but said, "Correct."

"Ok, so when you're in a relationship you don't just walk away without notice, you work at it, you talk it out. I'm not a cheat," he finished lamely, a blatant lie as of the last couple of minutes.

"John, you've hardly spoken to your wife for the last six months. You really mean to tell me you're happy together?"

"I –" John said, and of course he knew the answer to that but he couldn't voice it right now. "That's not the point, after what she did... it took a lot of processing, I wasn't ready-"

"I know how you feel, I know what you should do. I'm happy to help you do it."

Sherlock's words were so matter-of-fact that John actually laughed. "You're serious? You're trying to tell me you'll happily break up with Mary for me?"

Sherlock was nodding. "Well, yes John, I can do that, if it helps. She has already shot one of us after all, who can tell what might happen next?"

"No, no," John said, holding his hands out in front of him to stop his friend. "I mean, thanks, but no. I'll... I'll talk to her," John confirmed.

"Tonight?" Sherlock asked.

John just stared at him, his mouth wide. "What? Now?"

"I don't see why you would want to wait, after what we've admitted to each other. Unless," Sherlock put a hand to his mouth. "Unless you were just humouring me?" he said shakily.

"Oh, no." John moved quickly back to stand in front of his friend. "No, I meant it. This, this is really something and I... well I never expected it and I think I deserve a little time, after what we've been through tonight."

"Yes, of course, you take all the time you need. I'm sorry, this is... new." Sherlock frowned and it made John want to kiss him again. "I suppose we should both have some time."

John put a hand on his arm, a gesture he wouldn't normally risk with his friend, but which now seemed ridiculously soft and not enough considering that they had just kissed. "Sherlock," he said softly, "I don't actually want time. We've had enough dancing around this... whatever this is between us. I just need a few hours." He knew they were going in circles here, but he also knew it had to be done. "I'll talk to Mary, explain things, and then I'll be back, ok?" He was actually nearly shaking now, from the adrenaline caused by the admissions, the kiss, and now the thought of breaking up his marriage because he wanted to kiss his best friend instead.

"What will you say?" Sherlock asked.

"I have no idea. I'll work it out on the way. She deserves honesty, despite everything."

Sherlock didn't respond but his expression spoke for him. Despite the revelations of the evening, he was far from optimistic.

John patted his arm. "I'll be back," he said. Sherlock nodded and then kept his chin lowered, stepping back to let John go by. John took a couple of slow steps but then turned and impulsively reached up again to kiss Sherlock briefly. Then without another word he moved away, down the stairs, out of the building, flagging a taxi without looking back up to the windows, in case he saw Sherlock there and changed his mind.

Mary. That was the priority. She might have shot Sherlock, but this was going to be harder to deal with.

*****

John trudged back up the steps to 221B later that night. He checked his watch before getting out his keys – 2am. A few hours had turned into nearly half the night and now John was back, one bruised eye to show for his troubles, but otherwise thinking that actually it had gone quite well.

He was alive, Mary was ok. True, right now she was throwing his belongings into black sacks and John could only hope it wasn't actual bin collection day tomorrow.

He put his key in the door and it immediately opened to reveal Sherlock standing there. John looked up at him in surprise. "You forgot your phone?" he asked accusingly.

"Uh, no... I just didn't want to waste time getting back here," John told him, refusing to be drawn into anything, especially after the evening he'd had. "Do you mind?" he asked, gesturing to the hallway. Sherlock stepped back, holding the door open and John heard his intake of breath as he moved passed him. Sherlock reached out a hand and touched John's cheek very gently. "Don't. I deserved a lot worse."

"John, you tried, you don't deserve to be anything less than happy."

"That's easy for you to say," John humphed, and he was still angry, ridiculously angry at himself, not really able to place blame on anyone else. It was a harsh fact that Sherlock's admission had actually forced John into making the decision he had been putting off for months. He had been through all this once tonight though and now wasn't the time to go over it again.

Sherlock pushed the door closed and John turned to him, shoving him backwards with a hand on his chest. He looked up into his friend's surprised eyes and took a breath before he risked speaking again. "It's over. And I don't want to talk anymore, ok?" He pulled Sherlock's face down to meet his own and kissed him before he could think better of it.

Sherlock was smiling when John released him and he nodded, apparently waiting for John's next move. John didn't actually have a next move. He knew what he wanted to happen though.

"Let's finish what we started earlier," he murmured.

Sherlock took his hand and led him back upstairs.

***

There was kissing, so much kissing. John had never been kissed or even wanted to kiss a person as much as he had done tonight. His lips felt bruised and his cheeks were feeling the effects of stubble burn and he was in the happiest happy place he could have imagined.

Shirts were rumpled, hands had worked their way beneath waistbands and eventually belts had been torn off and buttons popped. John lay on top of Sherlock on the sofa and hummed with renewed pleasure as Sherlock squeezed his arse. He pressed his hips harder into Sherlock's groin, and watched his friend's face flush in the dim light from the streetlamp through the window.

"John," Sherlock sighed out.

And the sound of his name on Sherlock's lips made him delve back in for more.

Sherlock squeezed harder and forced their bodies together, raising and circling his hips in a rhythm that John was finding impossible not to join in with. He shifted to get a better position - knowing that there was now only a couple of layers of thin fabric between them was driving him crazy.

He kissed and licked at Sherlock's mouth, pulling groans from them both and finally he had to release his friend's lips and move down to his neck for some air.

Sherlock was panting, chest heaving and John moved his hand from under Sherlock's shirt, over smooth skin and taut muscles, raised up his hips a little and slipped inside Sherlock's pants. Sherlock gasped as John's fingers lightly brushed at the head of his cock – his erect, leaking, cock. John risked a look into his friend's eyes and pressed their foreheads together, scrunching his eyes closed to try to calm himself.

"John," Sherlock whispered again, and John felt a gentle touch to his cheek as Sherlock squeezed again at his arse to continue their rutting, becoming more frantic as John removed his hand and grabbed at Sherlock's hips desperately, urging him on.

He wanted this so much, to see Sherlock lose control and to be close enough to keep them both from falling, this was what they had been missing all those months, dancing around each other's emotions, allowing each other to fly free when what they needed was this... together. Always together.

And when had it ever felt this good - John was so hard, straining, he thought he would need to come soon or he was going to hurt. Watching Sherlock's face carefully he increased the pressure, the rhythm they had going, and Sherlock clutched harder at John, both of them making sounds John had never heard before and he wondered how he was ever going to get through another day without this.

It only took another few seconds and he was arching, crying out, laughing through his orgasm and fumbling his hand back into Sherlock's underwear to help him along. When he had a moment of clarity he raised his head, meeting Sherlock's wide eyes, grinning as he moved his hand along Sherlock's slick length, and he kissed him again, sucking on Sherlock's lower lip, delving in with his tongue as their chests bumped with every heaving breath. Sherlock grabbed at him, fingers digging into John's arms as he finally let go - head thrown to the side, body ridged beneath John as he came across John's knuckles.

***

For long minutes there was only the sound of their gradually calming breathing. John's head lay against Sherlock's shoulder, staring across his chest to the room beyond. He had never thought they would end up here - it was ridiculous. It was perfect.

He had never intended to hurt anyone, and in the morning he knew the remorse would be stronger and that they would both need to try and make amends with Mary.

But for now, he just couldn't bring himself to move, and when he felt Sherlock's long fingers stroking through his hair, he let his eyes fall closed and listened to the beat of the heart that he knew he would keep safe for as long as he could.


End file.
